Chapter Text
That night, Oliver dreamed.
In his dream, he sat in the last iteration of the Bunker, beneath his campaign offices. Around him, silence filled the space, until suddenly he wasn't alone. He didn't feel fear, either, just a vague sort of shadow of curiosity that had him turning toward the stairs.
The Monitor walked into view.
Oliver wasn't surprised, although he felt he should have been. The cosmic being's form swayed and undulated as if under water, rippling the room around him as he moved. Oliver seemed to be the only solid thing in the space, idly watching the ripples get smaller and smaller the further out they became. He turned his attention back to The Monitor, who had finally come to a stop feet away from him.
"Are you prepared, Oliver Queen?" The question seemed to come from the gently rippling air, and less from the form standing so close to him. Oliver found himself nodding anyway.
"I am."
The Monitor seemed to sway along with the surroundings a moment. "The multiverse depends on your ability to adapt. This time, you must do what does not come easily, or no one will survive." The last word seemed to reverberate around the room, bouncing off of the walls and setting off ripples that collided over and over until there was nothing but darkness.
*~*
When Oliver woke up, it was to a warm, rough hand wrapped around his ankle. The mattress on that side dipped with the weight of the person sitting there, and Oliver found himself moving before his eyes had fully opened, limbs struggling against the blanket he'd been wrapped in (wrapped in? This had Thea written all over it) because he knew that cologne, he'd swiped it enough times since Robert had taken them into his closet because what separates a man from a boy is his smell, gentlemen, and he had half a glimpse of the face he grew up with, the face he'd last seen in Hong Kong, running terrified from the abandoned warehouse he'd been held in, before the blanket disappeared and his arms were full of Tommy.
Oliver held his best friend, and he cried.
~*~
"I swear I'm gonna stop crying at everything." Oliver sniffed, running his hands over his face and into his hair.
Next to him, Tommy hmmed, nudging him with a knee. "Don't fight it, Ollie. You do what you need to to heal."
They were laying on his bed, shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the ceiling like they did when they were younger. Well, Tommy stared at the ceiling. Oliver tried not to cry, unsuccessfully.
He knew, rationally, that he could. He could reach into that place sitting just at the edge of himself and pull out the Monster, the part of him that had no feelings, no attachments and no reservations about doing what needed to be done, and silence even the shadow of the desire to cry. But that was counterproductive to his aim of doing things differently this time around. In fact...
"So, I should probably confess something." He sniffled.
"Yeah?"
"It was me who held you hostage in Hong Kong." Tommy's head spun to gaze at him, eyes wide. "The people who had me threatened to kill me if I didn't kill you and you found out I was alive. I couldn't hurt you, Tommy, I couldn't, so I had to make you leave. I'm sorry - " And he was crying again, sobbing, fingers clenched in his hair. And then there were arms around him, drawing him closer, pulling his head against a solid shoulder and Oliver cried, because Tommy was here, safe and comforting him, and he wasn't going to die this time, not if he had anything to say about it.
"Well, what can I say besides thank you for saving my life?" Oliver just laid there, soaking up the comfort, not even bothering to try to stifle his tears. Tommy spoke up, wiggling away from him a bit so their eyes met. "Listen, my therapist has been on me about expressing my emotions, and I think she's on to something. Dad lost mom and he bottled it all up, right, and turned into this absolute dick. I don't want to be like that, and I don't think you do either, so we have to, to express ourselves." Tommy's wide eyes seemed to plead with him, but Oliver was already on board. "We cry when we need to cry and say when we need space and communicate with our words instead of shutting down or responding in anger. Right?"
"Right." Oliver smiled. "We'll be the most well adjusted billionaires in Starling City."
"Certainly the most attractive," Tommy repeated their old line with a grin.
"Clearly." Oliver felt his smile fade a bit. "And no more drinking like we used to. That's not, not something I can go back to."
"No, you're right." Tommy half rolled to face the ceiling again. "I only ever really used to drink after a bad encounter with Malcolm, to be honest."
Oliver absorbed that, not sure what to say. "We, we drank a lot, Tommy."
"Yeah," the other man said, nodding, not looking away from the ceiling. "They were all bad. Either he'd tell me how much of a failure I was and how I'm a disgrace to my mother's memory, or he'd ignore me altogether, no matter how hard I tried to get his attention. Can't say I've tried to do that lately, to be honest."
Oliver swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Tommy, I'm sorry. I didn't know it got that bad."
"I didn't want anyone to know." He briefly met Oliver's eyes. "But after suicide attempt number 2 I figured I can't let him kill me, you know."
Oliver's head was buzzing. He hadn't known about this last time. Was the timeline changing that much already? He gripped his friend's forearm, waiting until those familiar eyes locked with his. "I'm glad you're still here, Tommy. I don't want to imagine a world without you."
Tommy's smile was brittle as he swiped at his eyes. "Yeah, the world without you sucked pretty bad, Ollie. I'm glad you're still here too."
"We're gonna be okay, Tommy."
"Yeah, eventually. We'll be alright."
They laid in silence for a while.
"I've been thinking of moving out." Oliver turned to find Tommy staring at the shadows dancing across his wall in the setting sun. "I'm almost never there, anyway, and he's never there. My therapist says it'll do me good, but honestly I'm scared."
"Why?"
"Because I've never lived by myself? I don't really know what that would look like? Plus, what if there's attempt number four and I don't survive?"
Oliver swallowed back bile, willing his hands to stop shaking. Those thoughts seemed...very similar to his own. "Yeah, I get that. I want to get my own place, now that I'm back, but... I don't know if I trust myself to be where someone can't stop me, you know?" It was...the first time he'd admitted this out loud. Not even Felicity had known, in the last timeline. He took a breath, not chancing a look at his friend. "It'd be attempt number one...but I know lots of ways to do it...If I really set my mind to it...if I get to that place again..." Because he'd been there. There had been three distinct occasions he'd been close to trying in the last timeline but had been ultimately interrupted by some emergency or crisis that required he put on the hood and be the hero everyone had thought him to be. What would they have thought if they knew what he really felt?
"I gatta admit, I was worried you'd call me a wuss or something." Tommy wiped hard at the tears on his face. "No sure this is better, to be honest."
"Yeah, well, I never could stand to lie to you." Oliver tipped his head back, letting the feeling of being so open settle on him. It wasn't half bad, he found. True, it was only the tip of the iceberg of all the secrets he was keeping from everyone, but in terms of things he'd never shared with anyone, this was a pretty big deal. And even if Tommy couldn't exactly help him, it helped that he could think of them as in this together.
He blinked, a thought taking shape in his mind. "We should get a bodyguard." Oh, this could be brilliant. With all the things he had to do, this could work really well to get Diggle, or someone else, to get him to ARGUS, no less.
Tommy huffed next to him. "To what? Protect us from ourselves?"
"Yes, exactly." He stood up, pacing. "We should really have bodyguards anyway, right, but we were too busy drinking and sleeping with half the city to pay any attention to that."
"Wow, Oliver, why don't you tell me how you really feel?"
"And it makes sense for me to have a bodyguard after coming back from the dead or whatever, and if we're living together then - "
"Wait, we're moving in together?"
"Uh, yeah," Oliver trailed off, suddenly nervous. "I mean, if you want...?"
"Yeah! Yeah, I do, I mean crap. No. Sorry, Oliver - "
"No?" he tried not to show how his heart sank, but wasn't that the point of all this?
"I want, to Oliver, but I need to tell you something." Tommy rushed on before he could get a word in. "I've been, I've been seeing Laurel for a bit. It's not serious, we've not put any labels on it, and I can cut if off immediately. But I wanted you to know, from me. I should have said that sooner."
Oliver took a moment to respond. On one hand, he truly didn't care. Laurel and he were a long, long time ago to him and he couldn't see him trying to get back together with her in this timeline. Not like he did in the last timeline. On the other hand, he didn't want to alienate either Tommy or Laurel, as she'd been a decent part of the team before her death. He settled for caution. "Okay...thanks for telling me. Do you want to? Cut it off, I mean? Not that you have to, I mean. I'm not going to get in between you and hers whatever it is - "
"Honestly, I'm more concerned with preserving my friendship with you than trying to force something with Laurel. I'm not her type, she's said it. We only really see each other when we're feeling kind of low and rotten, and this is not sounding any better the more I talk, wow."
Oliver grinned. "It's not, but I'm not mad, or angry, or anything. Tommy, so much has happened to me that anything I had with Laurel is just....completely gone. I'm not the guy who thought he loved her anymore."
Tommy watched him for a moment, before nodding. "I'm still cutting it off. I kept meaning to, but we haven't spoken in a few weeks."
Oliver nodded, looking away. "So, if we're living together, we can share a bodyguard between us."
"Yeah, that might work..." Tommy began, eyeing him a bit. Oliver raised an eyebrow. "I mean, you did just tell me you're probably like a ninja now; is a regular bodyguard gonna be enough?"
Somehow, the question didn't bother him like he thought it would have. "You're right, but I think I have an idea of where we can find someone who could work."
Tommy's eyes widened dramatically. "You know where to find ninjas?"
Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Yeah, but that's not where we're going for this."
Tommy's face was priceless.
"Although, Tommy, I have to be honest with you. There are things I can't tell you, just yet. I want to, but I need to do a few things first."
Tommy blinked at him. "Ollie, you don't have to tell me anything. You've been through hell the last five years; you tell me everything or you tell me nothing but its up to you. Don't even worry about it."
Oliver nodded, blinking back tears. He wanted to say something, but he couldn't quite make it around the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes. He didn't quite know why it affected him so much, but Tommy's words had hit a cord, and Oliver found himself more grateful than he could express. Tommy moved to pat his shoulder, before flopping back onto his bed.
"You really do have a lot of tears in there, don't you?"
"Shut up."